


Tiger Potter and the Year No One Will Leave Her Alone (But She Likes It That Way, Thanks Very Much)

by toutcequonveut



Series: Tiger Potter [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, Black Hermione Granger, British Sign Language, Canon Rewrite, Comedy, Female Harry Potter, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Indian Harry Potter, MTF Harry Potter, Nonbinary Neville Longbottom, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Sign Language, Tiger Potter, Trans Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toutcequonveut/pseuds/toutcequonveut
Summary: After surviving Lockhart, what could possibly be awaiting the trans Girl Who Livedthisyear at Hogwarts? A Prisoner of Azkaban, sure, but whatelse?
Series: Tiger Potter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736806
Comments: 57
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summaries are so hard to write, I've been thinking about this for two hours and I still have nothing _(:3」∠)_  
> Anyway, this installment involves fluff, fluff, a little bit of angst, and more fluffity fluff fluff fluff 
> 
> Many thanks to bafflinghaze for beta-ing and generally being an awesome person :D
> 
> Next chapter will post Wednesday!

Tiger’s internal preparations for a Dursley-filled summer are definitely necessary as Uncle Vernon tries to pull the same tactics and threats as last year. It’s a short-lived threat, because Tiger looks at her purple-faced uncle and just says, “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“WHAT WAS THAT, FREAK?”

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” Tiger says, voice dropping to a whisper. She looks around furtively. “You had a _visit_ from two of my teachers this year, didn’t you?”

Uncle Vernon’s face rapidly turns from purple to white. “You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“I don’t _have_ to dare, Uncle Vernon. You see, they’re _always_ watching me. And let me tell you, they would not be happy to know I was being treated badly. If you thought what they did last time was scary, let me just say now that I’d much rather stay on their good side than find out what happens if you make them angry _again_.”

In truth, Tiger has no idea what happened when Madame Pince and Professor McGonagall came to Number 4 at Christmas. Madame Pince had been strangely reticent to talk about it, and then Tiger had had other things on her mind. However, she can safely assume that the Dursleys were suitably intimidated since they had agreed to sign her transition paperwork. 

“I’m just saying, just some baseline decency and we’ll have a nice, smooth summer. No one needs to come, or get hurt, or get scared. I’ll just park myself in my room, you feed me just the same as what Aunt Petunia gets, and I’ll even do a few chores every day! But if you even _think_ about going further than that—” here, Tiger leans in close, staring directly into Vernon’s blue eyes with her huge, hypnotic green ones “—then no hospitals in the world would be prepared for the magic that will come raining down on you. Ah!” Tiger yelps, springing back and pointing at a robin that just landed in a nearby tree. “You see that! They’ve already sent the watchers to make sure you’re staying in line!”

“Fine!” Uncle Vernon shouts, his lip trembling. “I—we’ll do that. _Just_ the bare basics, you understand me, freak? I’ll have no freakishness out of you girl, none at all! And you’ll do your part to earn your keep around here!”

“No more than Dudley, of course,” Tiger replies, still smiling maniacally. She knows exactly how to make her eyes just this side of creepy. Ginny had taught her on the train. It also doesn’t escape her that her uncle had gendered her correctly, for once. Professor McGonagall has a way of being _very_ persuasive, it seems.

Uncle Vernon looks like he wants to puke at the thought of Tiger doing as few chores as Dudley, but he nods anyway and flees into the house, leaving Tiger to bring in her trunk herself. If this is the payment for having a blissful summer being ignored by the Dursleys, she’ll take it.

* * *

The thing is, Tiger honestly hadn’t expected anyone to actually _come_ for her. 

Yeah, her friends had all been horrified when she admitted how horrid her aunt and uncle were, but the Weasley rescue last year had been the first time anyone had done anything about it.

So she is understandably surprised when Hermione and her parents show up on her front doorstep three days later. Somehow, they manage to charm Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon on their first impression, and then swoop in for the kicker: the Grangers want to take Tiger with them on their annual vacation to France! They even offer to host her the rest of the summer!

Tiger is stunned speechless, and Hermione has to poke her a couple times before she starts moving to collect her things. Of all the things she could have guessed might happen this summer, this is _not_ one of them.

* * *

Sarah and Osman Granger are both dentists. Tiger already knew that, but as she clambers into the car to the airport that will take her to a _beach_ in _France_ (another country! She never imagined she’d actually see one before coming of age), she learns more about the Grangers’ family history.

Both dentists, it turns out, are Tunisian French with parents who live in France. It is also now that Tiger learns Hermione is fluent in French. The discovery had been as fascinating as it was embarrassing. Tiger can’t believe she’s never even considered the possibility that one of her friends can communicate in an entirely different language that she has no understanding of. Along with that revelation comes the self-sensation of being very small in a huge world with cultures and people that she could never imagine. Tiger’s only experience of foreign countries has been the Dursleys talking about the riff-raff who come into Britain begging for scraps and ruining the country, including the drunkard who married her mother named James Potter. 

The first time she’d heard that, Tiger looked down at her brown hands and understood that she was born _bad_ and _wrong_. Even when she’d started attending school, there were few brown kids, and no one had talked to her anyway, so she’d done her best to ignore her skin color and blend in with the white children.

She doesn’t even know why her skin is brown. No one has ever told her from what land James Potter’s family originated.

But now, that internalization has been blown to pieces. Here is Hermione, a black girl with black parents who very proudly talk about their heritage and embrace their differences as enrichments to their lives and the lives of others. Tiger had no idea it could be like this, that the very things that made you different could be things to celebrate. She resolves then and there to learn as much as she can from the Grangers. Later, she will write to Professor McGonagall and see if she knows anything about James Potter’s heritage.

* * *

News of the escape of mass murderer Sirius Black permeates every corner of Britain, both magical and Muggle. 

It does not reach Tiger, sitting and laughing at the table as Hermione’s grandmother cajoles her to eat more lablabi. Grand-mère, as she had insisted Tiger call her, is convinced that Tiger needs to be fattened up and is always plying her with ever more delicious foods. The thick chickpea stew is her favorite (though shakshouka is a close second) and Grand-mère knows it. Hermione and her parents are very amused by the situation, not least of which because lablabi is typically a winter dish.

Grand-mère takes a specific liking to Tiger, and in the evenings the two of them sit together and Grand-mère tells her stories of childhood, young adulthood, and the frightening move from her home country to seek a better life in France. Sometimes Hermione and her parents stay, but often it’s just Tiger and her adopted grandmother chatting late into the evening. 

Tiger learns that along with her knowledge of other cultures, her palate itself is woefully ignorant. With the Dursleys raising her, she’d never had any kind of cuisine outside of the British Isles, when she had cuisine at all. Hogwarts is the same; while the food is delicious, it is decidedly English (despite the school being located in Scotland). 

Now, with the opportunity the Grangers have so generously gifted her, Tiger is _thriving_. There are so many things to learn and explore, and even better, the beach is _right there_. Tiger’s never seen so much water before! At first, she sticks firmly to the sand and just stares at the sea before her. After the first day, she tentatively asks if one of Hermione’s parents could teach her how to swim, and then the whole of beach entertainment opens to her.

When they aren’t playing or exploring, Hermione keeps to a strict study schedule, and Tiger decides to join her. Hermione’s work ethic is legendary, though, so Tiger only stays for about half of the time so she can work on Charms and Transfiguration before wandering off to work on her vocal exercises. Lavender had actually given her summer homework this year, even going so far as to send letters with embedded recording spells so she can monitor Tiger’s progress. 

On July 31, the Grangers throw her a birthday party attended by their family, Tiger, and the owls that come through the window at midnight bearing gifts from all of Tiger’s friends. There’s even one from Ron, who is in Egypt for a family visit to the eldest Weasley brother, Bill. It’s just as wonderful a birthday as the one last year at the Weasleys and a far step up from the ten before that with the Dursleys.

Tiger can’t stop thinking: she’d never imagined life could _be_ like this.

* * *

Professor McGonagall writes back that James Potter’s parents immigrated from India, though she doesn’t know any more beyond that. Strangely enough, Madame Pince sends her a book of pureblood genealogy that arrives the same day. Tiger stares in confusion for a second but then shrugs. It seems that Professor McGonagall and Madame Pince are getting along with each other.

* * *

Tiger steps aboard the Hogwarts Express on September 1st and turns back with Hermione to wave to the Drs. Granger. 

She has a good feeling about this year, after such an excellent summer. 

Tiger sets out to find Parvati and Padma, fully intending to spend the three hour train ride learning about their family so she can have a glimpse of what her own might have been like. Two minutes in, though, she is waylaid by Ron who frantically shakes her and asks if she’s okay. Tiger reassures him that she’s fine, takes one step down the corridor, and then has a repeat of the experience with Draco.

“I promise I’m fine, but why are you asking?” she asks, pulling Draco into a compartment so they don’t block the corridor. Hermione wanders in after them, clearly curious.

“What do you mean, why am I asking? He doesn’t know that you’re Tiger! He might find out!”

“That didn’t make any sense.” Tiger informs him. “Who are you talking about?”

“Sirius Black, obviously!”

Tiger just stares at him.

“Infamous mass murderer? Broke out of the most secure prison two months ago? Is this casting any Charms for you yet?”

“I mean, I know _of_ Sirius Black, sure. But why should you be concerned for me in particular?”

“Tiger, he’s the reason your parents are dead!”

Tiger and Hermione are shocked into silence.

“Mother and Father told me all about it,” Draco continues. “They wanted me to be extra careful this year, since I’m their only heir and all, and cousin Sirius is quite mad.”

“Cousin?” Tiger asks weakly.

Draco waves a hand impatiently at her. “Yes, from my mother’s side. That’s hardly the important point here. Tiger, you need to be careful this year. My father said that there would be guards from Azkaban at Hogwarts and that they’re not exactly known for discriminating between prisoners and non-prisoners.”

* * *

Tiger gets her first taste of these Azkaban guards much sooner than she expects. Padma is in the middle of talking about growing up in the wixen district of Surat when all the warmth in the air seems to disappear in an instant. 

“Is it just me, or is something wrong with the climate control spells on the train?” Neville asks nervously. 

The windows are frosting over, and Tiger feels a sense of dread prickling at the back of her neck. She opens her mouth to ask what’s going on when she suddenly hears a voice that doesn’t belong to any of her friends.

_“Stand aside, silly girl,”_ a chilling voice commands.

The sound of something metal dropping to the floor rings out with extreme clarity. _”Take_ that _, you bastard,” replies a cool, fierce voice._

An explosion sounds in Tiger’s mind, and then she knows no more.

* * *

When Tiger comes to, there are a dozen concerned eyes staring at her. “What happened?” she groans. She attempts to sit up, but her muscles are quivery and weak.

Someone hands her a piece of chocolate and advises, “Eat this, it will help.”

Tiger takes the chocolate but does not eat it. “Who are you?” she asks suspiciously. 

The chocolate-giver smiles ruefully. “My name is Professor Remus Lupin. I’m going to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. I can already tell you’re going to do well in my class, with a guard like that.”

Tiger looks at her other friends in the compartment, and none of them seem to be frightened of the man. “Did I pass out? What _was_ that?”

“Dementors,” replies Professor Lupin.

“You mean, _those_ are the Azkaban guards?” Hermione cries indignantly. “But they were horrible! They… they attacked _us_ even though _we’re_ not wanted by the law!”

“Yes, well, that is the way of Dementors,” Professor Lupin comments drily. “There are some activist groups who have been petitioning the Wizengamot to abolish the practice of using Dementors as guards and aim to transport the entire population to the moon.”

“Well that doesn’t make any sense.” Ron wrinkles his nose in confusion. “How would they even get to the moon? You can’t Apparate up there.”

“The idea is to petition the Muggle government for use of one of their spaceships. Best to ask those who have already reached the moon six times, after all.”

_”Muggles_ have been to the _moon?_ ” The entire compartment, save Professor Lupin, Hermione, and Tiger, all have wide open mouths and eyes bulging from their sockets. 

“Apollo 11!” Hermione excitedly informs the compartment. “My parents told me all about watching it on the telly. The Americans are really something, though of course the Soviets got to space first.” 

The rest of the train ride is spent discussing moon missions and the feasibility of stuffing every Dementor into a rocket ship and blasting them off to the moon. Gradually, the compartment forgets about the unsettling ordeal of actually encountering the foul beings.

* * *

Tiger stares and stares and stares at the carriages, but no matter how long she looks, the huge, dark, horse-like creatures don’t fade from her vision. 

“Do you see them too?” a soft voice asks.

Turning around, Tiger comes face to face with someone whose hair is almost as blonde as Draco’s. 

“What are they?” she asks, bewildered. “And what’s your name?”

The person giggles. “My name is Luna,” they answer dreamily. “And these are thestrals. You can only see them if you’ve stood with Death as they accompany someone to the other side. Would you like to ride in one of the carriages together?”

Tiger follows her instincts and clambers into the carriage after Luna, waving to her other friends to go ahead and get a carriage with each other. She has a good feeling about this person. 

It turns out that Tiger’s intuition is spot-on. Luna is _fascinating_. She knows a lot about every creature, and the twenty minute ride to the castle flies by. Her descriptions of Blibbering Humdingers and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks throw Tiger off at first, but she soon learns to sort out the creatures and what they mean. It does not occur to her to think Luna is making anything up; there are so many new things in the magical world, isn’t it likely that some reveal themselves rarely and have thus evaded notice by Ministry-sponsored Magizoologists? 

Luna is also very comfortable with Death, and Tiger finds herself talking about the horrible experience of watching Lockhart’s spell rebound last year. Luna shares her own memory of seeing her mother slip away, succumbing to injuries from a Potions accident. “I wouldn’t like to go through that again,” she muses. “Luckily, I was able to find peace with the help of the Tetradic Terquals that live near our home. Maybe you could visit me sometime and see if they can help you too.”

“I would love to,” Tiger replies, and means it.

* * *

At the Welcoming Feast, Headmaster Dumbledore informs the school that Dementors have been sent here by the Ministry to protect the students and hunt for Sirius Black.

“Not in that order,” Tiger mutters under her breath. Hermione flicks her to be quiet.

* * *

Tiger is not taking Divination. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are both more useful for her goal to obtain a Charms mastery. She and Hermione are the only ones in their year of Gryffindor taking either course. After their first Arithmancy class, they walk the short distance to Transfiguration together, though Hermione has to run to the bathroom before class starts. That leaves Tiger to walk into the classroom alone, meaning she is the first person Lavender and Parvati see when they arrive. 

“Did you hear?!” they cry in unison, grabbing at Tiger’s shoulders and shaking.

It takes Tiger a moment to respond because her brain still feels like it’s rattling inside her skull. “Hear what?” she replies eventually.

“Neville is going to die!” Parvati wails. 

“Yes?” Tiger says when it is evident that Parvati has no more to add. “Did you think he was immortal? We’re all going to die.”

“No, he’s going to die _soon!_ Professor Trelawney said so, and she _teaches_ Divination! He’s so young too…” Lavender whimpers, tears in her eyes.

“Wait…” Parvati sniffles. She coughs, trying to clear her stuff throat. “Did Professor Trelawney _actually_ say that he would die soon? I got kind of caught up in the whole ‘the Grim is an omen of Death’ thing, but now that Tiger’s mentioned it, I don’t think she actually said that seeing it in his cup means Neville’s going to die soon.”

“So she was just making it up?” Lavender squawks in indignation. 

“Maybe she meant that he can control death? Like that Beedle the Bard story, with the Master of Death.”

“What story?” Tiger interjects.

“You don’t know Beedle the Bard?” Lavender cries, even more indignated at Tiger’s ignorance than by the possibility of Professor Trelawney prevaricating. “The tales are a classic! They should have been the first thing you learned to sing!”

“Lavender, _you_ taught me to sing.”

“Well clearly I was doing it wrong. We’re practicing for two hours tonight and I’m giving you homework.”

Tiger silently thanks whoever’s listening that she quit the Quidditch team this year. No one ever told her how much time would be involved in secretly becoming a rock star.

* * *

“Tiger,” Neville starts, and then stops, gaze flickering wildly before settling on the cheery fire in the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. 

“Yes?” she prompts, eyebrows raised.

“H-how did you know you weren’t—that you thought—how did you know you were a girl?”

Tiger blinks slowly. She hadn’t been expecting that. “Er, well, one day I saw myself in the mirror and thought my reflection didn’t look like what I felt inside. No one really talked to or played with me at school, but I could see that the girls did different things from the boys, and I wanted to be like them. My family didn’t like it when I said I was a girl, so I didn’t really say anything about it till Hagrid came and got me. I dunno if any of that is helpful to you, though?”

“No, I mean, yeah, thanks for telling me,” Neville stammers. 

Tiger waits, but Neville doesn’t seem forthcoming on any other details. “Want to see this new song Lavender has me working on? It’s about plants.” She gestures to the seat next to her in clear invitation.

Neville gratefully plops into the space, and Tiger shows him the lyrics and tricky jumps that Lavender says will train her voice. If he wants to tell her something, Tiger will be here to listen.

* * *

Professor Kettleburn had been intending to retire from teaching Care of Magical Creatures, but lacking any suitable replacement, he had decided to stay on. So the rumor goes, Hagrid had been jumping for the position, but he is still under probation due to the dragon incident from Tiger’s first year.

There is thus no carnivorous book nor a practical lesson with live Hippogriffs for the third year students because Professor Kettleburn is long experienced with his course and well aware of the dangers a cocky thirteen-year old might get up to.

* * *

It’s the first Defence Against the Dark Arts class for the Gryffindor third years and Professor Lupin has all the students lined up in the staff room ready to face the Boggart in the wardrobe. After the disastrous Potions lesson the day before and Professor Snape’s entirely unprofessional targeted harassment, Neville is reasonably unnerved at the prospect of facing a Boggart in his shape.

“Now, Neville, when the Boggart comes out of the wardrobe, it will assume the shape of your fear—Professor Snape, as you’ve disclosed—and you will need to concentrate as hard as you can on transforming the situation into a humorous one. Can you do that?”

“I can’t say that I can, sir,” Neville replies faintly. 

Professor Lupin hums. “Perhaps it would help to think of something utterly mundane and lighthearted, a situation from your life before Hogwarts. Is there anything you can think of along those lines?”

Neville’s eyebrows wrinkle in thought. “I… maybe? Yes.”

“Wonderful. Now, when you cast the spell, I want you to focus that thought as you say the incantation. Ready? Three, two, one—”

The Boggart bursts out of the wardrobe, visible only for an instant before it’s morphing into Professor Snape’s tall form. _“Mr._ Longbottom,” it drawls, the imitation perfect. “D—”

_“Riddikulus!”_ Neville cries desperately. 

A huge _crack!_ sounds throughout the room, and then Boggart Snape is standing behind a flaming barbecue, an apron tied around his neck that proclaims “KISS THE COOK”. The spatula in his right hand is prodding a steak that is shaped uncannily like the face of the Hogwarts Headmaster. 

“Oh my god,” Seamus shrieks. _“Snape grills Dumbledore!”_

The laughter in the room is boisterous and infectious. Third year students are still of an age to be ignorant that their teachers have personal lives outside the school, after all, so the thought of Potions Professor Severus Snape as a grillmaster is just too titillating. Tiger in particular feels a vicious glee at the distinctly Dumbledore-ish demeanor of the steak. She hasn’t forgotten that it is his direction that has her stuck with the Dursleys.

“Excellent work, Neville. Parvati, next! Come forward!” Professor Lupin commands in his soft voice. 

Parvati’s mummy Boggart trips over its own bandage, Seamus’s banshee becomes a rat chasing its own tail, Dean’s disembodied hand gets snapped in a mousetrap, and Ron’s giant spider loses its legs. Finally, it is Tiger’s turn. She steps forward, the Boggart already turning to face her—

And then Professor Lupin is cutting in front of her. _“Riddikulus!”_ The pale white globe the Boggart becomes pops into a thousand pieces of Boggart confetti, and Professor Lupin awards congratulations and House points to all.

Tiger is left feeling dissatisfied though. Why had Professor Lupin prevented her from facing her worst fear?

* * *

Tiger adores Hermione’s new cat. He’s grumpy and fluffy and, when he’s in the right mood, will let Tiger pet him for hours. 

Ron distinctly does not love Crookshanks. “He tried to eat Scabbers!” he accuses, finger pointing directly at the orange cat. Crookshanks lunges forward and snaps at the finger, which Ron withdraws just in time. “See!”

“Don’t be silly Ron,” Tiger admonishes. “If he’d really meant to, he’d have bitten your finger off already. He’s probably just playing around with Scabbers in a cat way that you don’t understand.” She picks up her wand and conjures a sparkly bit of fluff on a string from the end of it and starts bouncing it around. Crookshanks quickly loses interest in Ron in favor of batting at the fluff. “See?”

Ron looks from Tiger’s wand to the playful senior citizen feline and conjures his own bit of fluff. “Here, kitty kitty…?” Crookshanks glances at him disdainfully but dutifully gives the fluff a couple halfhearted baps before turning back to Tiger and hunting her own conjured fluff with vigor.

That’s when Scabbers decides to peek his nose out of Ron’s shirt pocket. In an instant, Crookshanks twists in midair and just misses grabbing the rat by a whisker’s length by the grace of Tiger’s quick reflexes. She holds the squirming cat as Ron leaps to his feet, cradling Scabbers in his chest pocket.

“If that’s how Crookshanks likes to play, I don’t think Scabbers will be playing with Crookshanks anymore!” Ron explodes, turning and storming out of the common room.

Tiger twists to meet eyes with Hermione, who looks crestfallen. Before she can say anything, Neville timidly approaches them. “Maybe Crookshanks would get along better with Trevor…?”

The toad is tenderly placed in front of the cat, and an intense staring contest commences. Then, slowly, oh so slowly, Crookshanks lowers his regal orange head, keeping eye contact with Trevor’s blank amphibian gaze all the while. Trevor’s throat expands and he croaks once, twice, then takes a great leap and lands directly atop Crookshanks’s head. 

Tiger lunges forward to save Trevor, but Hermione whips a hand out and smacks her in the chest, effectively stopping her. “I think he’s purring!” she whisper-shouts.

Tiger and Neville both lean in close and sure enough, there is a faint rumble being emitted from Hermione’s fluffy orange cat.

* * *

“Tiger,” Neville starts hesitantly one Herbology class where the two are partnered. “Did you ever feel like you weren’t a girl? Not a boy either, but just… just neither, I guess?”

“No,” Tiger replies frankly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t feel like that. Is that how you feel?”

Neville’s hands never pause in his work, digging through the soil and then showering the Filthsome Philodendrons with handfuls of dirt. The Philodendrons sigh softly in pleasure at the treatment. “I think so. Sometimes, anyway. And then I get to thinking, what does it really mean to be a boy or a girl anyway? How can I really know?”

“You could always try it out and see if you like it. Is there a different name you like? Or pronouns?” Tiger sprinkles her own Philodendrons with a palmful of dirt and is rewarded by the flowers hissing at her.

“Not like that, that’s too light and it makes them itch. You’ve got to do it like you mean it.” Neville demonstrates, dropping a handful of clods, and that same happy sigh emits from the plant. “Anyway, I feel like that’s a really big step. What if I’m wrong?”

“What if you’re right?” Tiger counters immediately. She scatters the dirt more purposefully this time and is rewarded by the same purring. “In either case, you’ll learn more about yourself. Best case, you won’t feel so lost anymore. Worst case, you’ll feel awkward for a bit, but this is hardly the first time that’s happened.”

Neville looks stricken, and Tiger quickly backtracks. “Not in a bad way! I just mean… compared to all the things you’ll do in your life, trying out a new name or pronouns probably isn't going to be the worst of them.”

“I guess…” Neville allows. “What if it is, though?”

“Talk me through it,” Tiger says. She’s not sure what more she can say to help her friend, so the only avenue left is to listen to Neville work it out. 

Unbeknownst to her, it’s for this very reason that Neville sought her out.

* * *

“Ah, Tiger, I was wondering when you would come to visit,” Madame Pince greets. “How are you?”

“All anyone can talk about is Hogsmeade,” Tiger complains, sinking deep into the plushy armchair that she now thinks of as hers. “Also Professor Lupin thinks my greatest fear is Ol’ Moldy Socks and so didn’t let me face my Boggart.”

“That is indeed quite stressing,” Madame Pince agrees. “What’s this about Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, I was with the Grangers all summer and didn’t even bother asking my relatives to sign the permission slip. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway, and I already used up all my er, goodwill on them at the start of the summer.” Tiger resolutely does not disclose that the goodwill in question was more akin to threats. The fact that she then left the country for the rest of the summer and didn’t get to capitalize on her gains was disappointing, but she wouldn’t have given up her months with Grand-mère and the Grangers for anything.

“You are still staying with your Dursley relatives then?” Madame Pince asks. Her voice is deceptively calm, but Tiger shivers slightly, knowing there’s a steel edge just beneath the surface.

“Er, yes,” Tiger mumbles. “Why? Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“You may recall that Headmaster Dumbledore is your magical guardian who has insisted that you reside with your mother’s relatives. I, along with Min—Professor McGonagall, put forth a case as to why you should not be subject to such a fate.”

“Really?!” Tiger cries incredulously. 

“Yes, for all the good that it did.” Madame Pince snorts in disgust. Her spoon clinks against the sides of her cup with more force than necessary as she stirs her tea. “He said he would consider it, but I now suspect he took our request and dumped it directly into the trash.”

“That does sound like him,” Tiger comments, delighting in the drama of her favorite school librarian complaining about her least favorite school headmaster.

“Sometimes I wonder how he even—well. More importantly, what are you planning to do with your Hogsmeade form?”

“I guess I just won’t be able to go. Professor McGonagall made it pretty clear that no signature means no Hogsmeade,” Tiger responds dejectedly. 

“Hmm,” Madame Pince hums. “Are you quite _certain_ there is no signature on it?”

“Huh?” Tiger glances at Madame Pince strangely. “I mean, yeah. There’s no way the Dursleys signed it.”

“As you said yourself, you weren’t in the house most of the summer.. Perhaps your aunt or uncle signed the form without you noticing before you left with the Grangers.”

“I can’t see why they would…” Tiger trails off as she fishes out the piece of parchment from her bag. _“HUH?!”_

There, on the line, is Aunt Petunia’s tightly controlled signature. Tiger’s seen it often enough when she had to handle the mail as a young child, and it is without a doubt her aunt’s handwriting. She glances from the paper to Madame Pince so fast her head looks like a yo-yo. 

Madame Pince’s lips curve slightly. “See? One never can truly predict another’s actions.”

Tiger stares at her silently for some seconds.

“... and a little outside influence doesn’t hurt either.”

_Ha!_ Tiger thinks. “Thank you,” she says aloud. 

“For what, Tiger?” Madame Pince takes a sip of tea, her eyes light with mirth.

“For being a good… influence.”

* * *

Tiger returns from Hogsmeade on Halloween to find the portrait guarding the Gryffindor common room slashed to ribbons. The subject of the portrait is nowhere to be found, though Peeves proclaims her position to be “somewhere on the other side of the castle”.

Everyone is sent to spend the night in the Great Hall while the teachers search the castle for Sirius Black. Tiger is eerily reminded of the events of last year; she hadn’t thought the Chamber of Secrets would be such a big deal, and look where that led her. As she tries to get comfortable in the squooshy sleeping bag and stares at the twinkling stars above her, Tiger resolves to be more vigilant of the mass murderer Sirius Black.

* * *

Unfortunately, she didn’t count on everyone in her circle having the exact same thought.

“Lavender, how do you expect me to practice if you won’t let me go to my practice room?” Tiger huffs in exasperation. 

“I’ll just go with you!”

“If I wanted an audience, I’d practice here. It’s not even that far!”

Percy cuts through Tiger’s protests. “I will escort you anywhere you go, Tiger,” he says with a deep bow. 

Tiger throws up her hands in despair. She doesn’t want people to know where her practice room is, and it’s not like anyone’s going to let her go alone anytime soon. “Fine, I’ll stay here then!” She falls back into the chair with crossed arms. “I’m not even Harry Potter anyway, so Sirius Black should stay away from me on principle or else he’d be transphobic,” she grumbles under her breath.

Neville glances at her askance. “Don’t you think a mass murderer might be a little unconcerned with whether or not he’s transphobic?”

“Just because you’re evil doesn’t have to mean you’re a _jerk!_ ” Tiger argues vehemently. “Even _Voldy-vold_ called me a girl! And then he tried to kill me!”

* * *

It’s far from the first or last time she has this exchange. No one will let Tiger go anywhere alone. It’s common knowledge that Sirius Black is after Tiger, and while the tattered portrait had been easily stitched back together with a _Reparo,_ Frederica’s fear is ongoing. She’s been spending her time in a portrait far from the Gryffindor common room and now the only portrait fearless enough to guard the portal is Sir Cadogan. The knight in the portrait is chivalrous to a fault (what is the line between chivalry and misogyny to a medieval knight? There isn’t much of one, turns out), and everyone is silently begging for the return of Frederica.

Despite her extensive people-charming skills, Tiger cannot shake the people determined to follow her for her safety. She’s not even sure what exactly having a few more underage Hogwarts students will offer if faced with a former Auror-turned-war criminal (Tiger’s not sure what an Auror is, but everyone talks about it like it’s some kind of big deal that Sirius Black was one, so it’s probably a wixen name for a wrestler or something like that). 

Even Professor Mcgonagall has taken to personally accompanying her to Madame Pince for teatimes. More accurately, she escorts Tiger to the library and then joins them for tea.

The first time Professor McGonagall accompanies Tiger, Tiger enters the library as usual.

Madame Pince looks up to greet Tiger. Her face freezes on seeing Professor McGonagall as well.

“Oh,” is all she says, but her fingers tighten on the handle of the teapot she is setting up and her eyes drift over to rest on the wall to the left of Tiger and Professor McGonagall.

“I hope we are not intruding,” Professor McGonagall says. 

“Tiger is always welcome here,” Madame Pince responds. Her eyes sweep to the chair Tiger usually uses. “Go on, have a seat, child.”

Tiger is caught in the intensely awkward nonverbal battle between her two favorite adults at Hogwarts. “Er, I can leave if you have something to discuss with each other,” she hedges. 

“Ah, I’m not certain that if Professor McGonagall has something she would like to be known, she would express it in a fashion clear and comprehensible to others—namely, using _words!_ ” Madame Pince’s voice has accelerated and crescendoed as the sentence continues, and her final word is accented with the loud _clank!_ of the teapot hitting the tea tray.

“Irma, you know I—”

“No, I _do not_ , in fact know. And I will continue not to know because I find myself quite irritated at the moment. Kindly return to your own office for tea.” Her piece said, Madame Pince busies herself preparing tea and biscuits. There are notably only two cups and plates on the tray.

Professor McGonagall sighs. “Very well, then. If I could trouble you to deliver Tiger to her common room after your tea?”

“Tiger is neither a newborn infant nor a _thing_ to be delivered, but yes I shall _escort_ her. Perhaps we can use the walk to discuss the importance of understanding that words exist for their specific meanings in order to facilitate meaningful communication.”

Professor McGonagall visibly wilts with each word Madame Pince utters. “Indeed,” she agrees faintly. “I believe I shall consider the same over my own tea. Good day.” So saying, she turns and flees the library.

Tiger stares at the empty doorway for several seconds before turning back to Madame Pince, who is sipping her steaming tea in a lame attempt to disguise the cause for the angry flush of her cheeks. 

“...Has something happened between you two?” Tiger braves. She _is_ a Gryffindor, after all.

Madame Pince picks up the teapot again and refills the tiny bit of tea she’d just drunk. “How have your classes been?” she asks, obviously ignoring the question.

Tiger counters with her own brand of blatantly ignoring the most recent thread of conversation. “That wasn’t exactly polite,” she ventures again. “She didn’t even have a chance to speak.”

“She had plenty of chances earlier,” Madame Pince mutters.

“It sounds like you wanted her to talk about something but wouldn’t give her a chance to talk, which seems unfair, is all,” Tiger says in a rush. “Anyway, you would not _believe_ what Hermione told me about Divination today. I’m so glad I’m not taking that class. I’m not really sure when _she’s_ taking it, to be completely honest. She’s got so many classes, I wonder if they let her take some with other Houses?”

“Oh?” Madame Pince remarks, perking up at the chance to abandon their earlier thread of conversation. “Do tell, I am very invested in the ongoing drama of Ms. Granger versus the force of nature that is Sybil Trelawney.”

Tiger looks at the librarian strangely. “Force of nature? I thought you didn’t particularly approve of Divination being taught as a course since being a Seer is an inherited ability, not a learned one?”

“There are four distinct types of forces in nature, Tiger: gravity, electromagnetism, strong, and weak. As a member of staff, I can say no more but only implore you to use your imagination to determine which force of nature suits Professor Trelawney best.”

* * *

“Mi- _-iss_ Potter,” Headmaster Dumbledore says one afternoon just outside the Great Hall. It’s obvious that he wanted to say “Mister”, but something caught and stopped him.

That something would be Hermione. She’s been refining her clumsily crafted spell from first year, and Tiger is pleased to see the results. She’s still not exactly sure how it works or where it gets the power to affect everything, but that’s why Hermione is the genius and Tiger is the agent of chaos.

“Yes, Headmaster?” Tiger answers faux-sweetly. The knowledge that this man is the reason she has to return to the Dursleys each summer burns bright in her mind.

“I wanted to advise you to be wary of your surroundings, given the danger that looms unseen.”

“Okay Headmaster. But what do you mean ‘unseen’? We _can_ see the army of Dementors that suck happiness out of all that come near.”

“I was alluding to Sirius Black, Miss Potter.”

“I was alluding to the fact that having Dementors at a school is a terrible idea and I hate them. I’ve got to get to class now, bye Headmaster!”

* * *

“What was up with Snape going off-script and teaching a lesson about werewolves?” Ron wonders aloud, hands crossed behind his head and eyes cast upwards at the ceiling as if the answers might be written there.

“Your guess is as good as mine, but my personal theory is that he just wanted to throw Neville off-kilter so he could ask questions and h—Neville wouldn’t know the answer,” Tiger responds. She begins to turn to Hermione, but the other girl rushed off two minutes ago to the library. Instead, Tiger spies a different friend a little ways down the hall and waves her down. “Luna!”

“Hello, Tiger,” Luna greets, stepping closer. Tiger notices that her shoes are mismatched, but before she can comment on it, Ron is speaking.

“I dunno, it was just weird the way Snape wouldn’t let anyone correct him. I know he never listens to Hermione, but _everyone_ was trying to tell him we’re in the middle of redcaps right now, not werewolves.”

“Maybe he hates Professor Lupin and wants to try and reveal his secret status as a werewolf, thereby ousting him from his teaching position at Hogwarts,” Luna suggests.

Ron scoffs and looks at Tiger. “Your friend is bonkers, mate.”

“Hey!” Tiger protests. “Don’t be a jerk, Luna is way smarter than _you_. If Luna says so, it’s way more likely than anything else.”

“Actually, I was trying to make a joke,” Luna says. “But I appreciate you coming to my defence, Tiger.”

“Anytime,” Tiger assures easily.

* * *

As days pass and the usual hustle and bustle of school goes on, people slowly stop insisting on escorting Tiger everywhere. The biggest exception is Professor McGonagall, who still accompanies her to Madame Pince for tea.

The iciness from that first instance is still very much apparent, but after two weeks, Madame Pince actually asks Professor McGonagall to stay and have tea with them. Tiger isn’t quite sure what happened, but she’s glad that whatever it was, it’s been resolved. It’s not fun to have her two favorite staff at the school fighting with each other.

At first, it’s a little weird having both Professor McGonagall and Madame Pince at the same tea. She knows and likes both of them, of course, but both of them _together_ is different, somehow. Not in a bad way, though.

She tells them about going to Professor Lupin to ask why Dementors affect her so much and his promise to start teaching her the spells to defend against them after Christmas. 

“The Patronus Charm?” Professor McGonagall questions. “That is very advanced magic.”

“I can find some books that may help. The Patronus is notoriously difficult to master. Most adult wizards can’t cast it.”

“I rather think that’s due to the lack of need to. It _is_ magic intended to defend against Dementors, which most wix do not face unless they are in Azkaban, and if they are in Azkaban, they hardly have their wands to cast the charm.”

“I want to do it, if it’s Charms,” Tiger asserts. “You said my mum was good at Charms, and I want to be just like her.”

“No room in your heart to love Transfiguration?” Professor McGonagall teases.

“Of course there is,” Tiger responds immediately. “I have room for more than one parent in my heart.” Her brain catches up with her immediately afterwards, and she hurriedly takes a large sip of tea as a distraction. Unfortunately, that causes her to start coughing uncontrollably, causing both Professor McGonagall and Madame Pince to stand up and try to help her.

By the time her coughing subsides and she convinces them to sit back down, Tiger hopes the two of them have forgotten about the whole thing. Based on the small smiles on both their faces, though, she’s not so sure.


	2. Chapter 2

“Soooo Tigerkit!”

“Yes?” Tiger turns around from where she is heading to her practice room to face Fred and George.

“Odd place to be hanging out, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would indeed say, Forge!”

“Especially when one is on the run from one who himself is on the run!”

“I’m not hiding from Sirius Black,” Tiger mutters.

The twins exchange a glance. “Maybe you should be, though?”

“That slashed-up portrait didn’t look like the escaped serial murderer was exactly joking around.”

“There’s no actual proof he’s after me specifically,” Tiger protests. “It’s all circumstantial evidence.”

“Tigercub, and I mean this in the nicest way, do you really want—”

“—to bet your life on that? Because we, of the Order of Gred and Forge—”

“—also known in some circles as the Order of Forge and Gred—”

“—certainly do not. Which is why—”

“—well, not _entirely_ why, but partially why, for all that one can really consider any one thing in this life to _truly_ have a why—”

“—other than the noble letter Y, naturally—”

“—but we digress, this concern of the Order compels us to gift you _this_.”

With a flourish, the twins produce an old piece of folded blank parchment. Tiger takes the offering and examines it, but sees no sign that there is any sort of writing on it whatsoever. “Thanks?” she says hesitantly. “I’ll uh, write my next Defence essay on it and hold it up in case Sirius Black is coming at me with a knife.” Tiger pauses, considering and warming up to the idea. “He’ll be so shocked at my terrible handwriting and erroneous statements on the Dark Arts that he’ll have to put down the knife and pick up a red-ink quill to correct it. While he’s distracted, I’ll make my escape! Oh wow, that could actually work, thanks!”

“Ah, well, that was not exactly our, hm, _intention_ , per se—”

“—not that we are particularly paragons of the concept of ‘intended usage’, but in this case—”

“—that piece of parchment you hold in your hands is a _secret map of Hogwarts!_ ” 

Tiger’s jaw drops. It drops further as the twins show her the mechanics and capabilities of the Marauder’s map. With this, Tiger will be able to move around the castle and avoid any dot that says “Sirius Black” on it with ease. 

“But are you sure you want to give this to me? Won’t your pranking suffer without it?” Tiger worries at her lip a little. She’s only had it for all of five minutes and _she_ doesn’t want to part with it. She can only imagine how Fred and George feel, having had the thing for years.

“Gred, I think we might have to get a bit mushy here.”

“I think so too, Forge. Tiger, you must know that not only do we aspire to reach your level of chaos energy—”

“—but you’re also a member of our family, and family doesn’t just let other family sneak around the castle while scary knife-wielding murderers are on the hunt for them.”

“So in the face of that, what’s a couple pranks—”

“—compared to the wellbeing of our honorary Weasley, Tiger Lily Potter?”

“Besides, we can hardly consider ourselves Master Pranksters if we can’t get by without a little piece of parchment, can we Forge?”

“Nope, not one bit, Gred.”

Tiger does the only thing she could possibly do after such a confession. She pulls both twins in tight for a hug, then quickly releases them and begins to trot down the hall. “Thanks, guys!” she calls out. Just before they round the corner, she adds, “By the way, did I mention I figured out a way to cast a time-delayed Tarantallegra charm?”

“What’s this, Forge? Do I dare believe my own eyes?” Fred looks down at his legs, which have begun to dance uncontrollably.

“I do believe we’ve been pranked, Gred. Funny, though, I don’t mind at all.”

“Me neither.” He sighs exaggeratedly, like a proud parent. “She’s going to be _such_ a good prankster.”

* * *

Tiger has permission to go to Hogsmeade along with the other third years, but that does not stop her from exploring the secret passageways on the map because she feels like it. She embraces the ability to find spaces that no one else knows about (save two overly devious redheaded twins) to practice singing. The stark difference in finally being truly alone allows her to breathe deeply for the first time in what seems like forever.

Well, alone besides animals. Sometimes she’ll go speak to Coil, and occasionally she sees animals in the passageways. Often it’s spiders or a rat, but at one point she swears she spots Crookshanks accompanying a large black dog lurking through the tunnels. Tiger assumes the dog is one of the students’ pets and doesn’t think much of it.

* * *

“I think I might be…” Neville trails off, concentrating overly hard on potting the Irritable Ilex. Tiger waits patiently and is rewarded several minutes later. “I think I might be nonbinary.”

“That’s wonderful, Neville!” Tiger enthuses. “Are you going to use new pronouns?”

“Yes, I think I’d like, um, they/them.”

Tiger tries it out. “This is Neville. They are my friend.” She beams at them. “How was that?”

“It felt..” Neville looks down with blushing cheeks. They rub a hand on their chest self-consciously, but Tiger can clearly see how pleased they look. “It felt really nice.”

* * *

At Christmastime, Tiger receives a Firebolt. She’s not sure why, since she already has a Nimbus 2000 generously gifted from Professor McGonagall when she decided to play Quidditch last year, and now she no longer plays Quidditch. She does go flying from time to time because flying is _fantastic_ , but still. 

Adding to the mystery is the fact that the gift comes with no note attached. Hermione goes into full anxiety-mode when she learns this on the way down to the Great Hall for Christmas breakfast.

“What if it’s from Sirius Black? It could be cursed to throw you off when you’re 20 meters high and kill you!” 

“I doubt someone who wants to kill me would buy the best racing broom on the market to do that—”

“But what if that’s precisely his plan! He might _know_ you would dismiss the theory but then it wouldn’t be a theory because it’d be _true!_ Which then brings to question why gravity is called the _theory_ of gravity because gravity is certainly true…” Hermione trails off for a moment, clearly going through an uncountable number of thoughts in the span of several seconds. “I suppose it’s a miscommunication in the common word between theory in the scientific sense and theory in the layman sense, and saying ‘theory of gravity’ implies gravity in a scientific sense… oh never mind that, it’s still gravity that would kill you if you ride that broom, scientific or not!”

“Hermione, there’s still no proof the broom is cursed—”

“What’s going on?”

Both Hermione and Tiger turn to face Draco, who has decided to stay at Hogwarts over the winter break for some reason.

(Unbeknownst to Tiger, the reason is because he wants to spend more time with her.)

“I got a Firebolt as a gift and I don’t know who it’s from,” Tiger explains.

“You shouldn’t use it! It might be from Sirius Black and cursed to throw you off when you’re 20 meters in the air!”

“Exactly!” Hermione exclaims.

Draco looks at her sharply. Tiger, recalling some of the things he’s implied or said about blood status in the past, looks at _him_ sharply. Draco shrinks inwards a little bit.

“You do make good points sometimes, Granger,” he admits grudgingly. 

Tiger nods in approval, and Draco brightens up. Then she remembers exactly _what_ she’s agreeing to. “I still think you’re both starting a conspiracy!” she yelps.

 _But I’m glad my friends can get along,_ she thinks to herself.

* * *

Neville’s list of passwords goes missing. Tiger feels bad, because the only reason that the written list exists is because Sir Cadogan has determined that constantly changing it is the best way to keep Gryffindor Tower safe. Unfortunately, Neville’s strong suit has never been remembering things, especially if they only exist for a short time. 

Everyone promises to keep an eye out for the list, but it does not turn up.

* * *

It’s the morning of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and Tiger is currently squashed into the deepest corner of the library she can find to hide from Oliver Wood. He’s always looking at her with a disappointed expression, but the moping is amplified by 500 on Quidditch match days. Up until he steps on the pitch, he turns to find her every few seconds and asks if she’s _sure_ she doesn’t want to play in this match. Tiger always politely but firmly refuses him. Privately, she wonders if it’s even within the rules for a new Seeker to take over the day of the match, or if it’s even a good idea since she hasn’t been to any of the practices. 

Today is no different. She doesn’t use the secret passageways in case Fred and George have been recruited into the “Find Tiger” mission, and she figures Oliver won’t check the library because who would be in the _library_ on the day of a Quidditch match?

Apparently Draco Malfoy would, because he happens to wander across her corner a few minutes later and does a double take.

“Why are you here?” he asks. “Gryffindor’s playing!”

“Yes, that’s precisely the problem,” Tiger mutters darkly, annoyed at having been discovered. She quickly explains the situation, then asks a question of her own. “Why aren’t you watching? I thought you loved Quidditch.”

“It’s Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and you’re not playing. It’s just not as exciting.” Draco rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Say, want to come hang out with us in Slytherin? Wood will never find you there.”

Tiger only stops to think for half a second. “Absolutely. Lead the way.”

* * *

Once Tiger steps through the false wall that guards Slytherin’s common room, she immediately understands why Neville was so indignant last year about the wonders of the place being kept from them. She immediately runs up to the huge wall that spans an entire third of the circular common room and gazes in fascination at the kelpies and grindylows and bowtruckles and—oh Merlin, is that a merperson?

The child, because they _are_ a child, swims easily up to the window and taps at the glass, head tilted to the side curiously. Then they raise one finger and tap it against their chin. Eyebrows furrowing down, they then point at Tiger herself.

She turns to Draco in confusion, but he is already stepping forward. His own hands come up and he (much more slowly) points at Tiger, makes a fist with his right hand and taps it on the center of his chest, then balls his left hand into a fist and covers the back of it with his open right palm.

The mer-child’s face blooms into a smile. They wave cheerily at Tiger and then turn a graceful loop, swimming away into the darkness.

“What was that?” Tiger asks. 

“The merfolk who live by the common room all use sign language to chat with us. Every Slytherin is expected to know the basics by the end of first year, after that it’s an elective. Though really, it’s not an official course anyway, so I suppose it’s not really an elective either. Whatever. If you’re a Slytherin, you have to know BSL. It’s rude to the neighbors otherwise.”

“That is so _cool!_ Gryffindor doesn’t have anything like that!” Tiger complains. “So what did you say to them?” 

“Oh, Hrea just asked who you were so I said you were my friend.”

“Can you teach me?” Tiger plops herself down into one of the squashy armchairs and gets comfortable, ignoring the startled gasps of Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini who are seated opposite. 

Draco lowers himself more gracefully into the circle of armchairs. “Just like first year again, it seems. Okay, let’s start with the alphabet…”

* * *

Tiger has a lot of fun in Slytherin. She wonders idly what it would have been like to have been Sorted here instead of Gryffindor, but then she remembers her mother’s legacy that she wants to live up to. Besides, there are a fair number of students, both older and younger, who give Tiger dirty looks throughout the day.

Tiger resolutely ignores them as she and Draco move from BSL lessons to speculating about the rumor that Professor Snape intentionally drinks a goblet of lye in the mornings to ensure he’s as caustic as possible. After that, Draco calls a house elf and asks for dinner, which Tiger didn’t even realize was a thing one could _do_ at Hogwarts but will certainly be taking advantage of later, and over plates of roast potatoes and creamy stew they practice more BSL. 

Daphne Greengrass and her sister Astoria wander over sometime during the BSL practice, and it turns out their family is Deaf and their great-great-great-grandmother was actually the one who taught sign language to the merfolk that often passed by the window and established the Slytherin tradition. This revelation leads to Tiger eagerly asking questions about the differences in Deaf and hearing culture and by the end of the night she thinks she’s made a couple new friends.

When Tiger runs out of questions, Daphne shyly asks if it’s true that Tiger is a singer. Tiger hesitates for a fraction of a second before nodding because, well, she _is_ a singer, even if she’s not Tiger Turpin. Daphne asks for a song, and Draco looks like his eyes are going to pop out of his head, they’re so wide. To avoid any potential mess, Tiger agrees on the condition that she do it in privacy. She pretends not to notice how crestfallen Draco looks, but she doesn’t want to encourage his pseudo-fanboying. He seems to be having some trouble adjusting to the thought of her as Tiger Potter, not the lead singer of his favorite band. 

Astoria immediately volunteers her room, since there’s only her and one other Slytherin girl in her year, Violet Baffier. This is when Tiger discovers that the Slytherin dormitory doors are embedded with Silencing Charms. After an impromptu concert, she stays chatting with Astoria and Daphne and eventually Violet Baffier too and doesn’t notice the time until it’s well past curfew. 

Astoria graciously offers Tiger to sleep in her bed since there’s plenty of room. She seems as excited to have a slumber party with a new friend as Tiger is and takes the initiative to call a house elf for a spare nightgown, pillow, and toiletries. The two stay up even later talking about everything and nothing, faces separated by mere centimeters in the heavy darkness of Astoria’s curtained bed.

The bottom line is, Tiger walks into the Great Hall the next morning and discovers along with the rest of the school that Sirius Black got into the Gryffindor common room last night and slashed Ronald Weasley’s bedcurtains into tatters.

* * *

_The one good thing out of this is no one minding that I’m spending more time with my Slytherin friends,_ Tiger thinks. 

The reaction to Sirius Black’s intrusion is even fiercer than the first time. It was bad enough that he had gotten into the school, but now he even entered the dormitories! Where innocent students slept and dreamed of studying! 

Sir Cadogan is fired, though he protests that he was told to let in anyone who knew the passwords, and this fellow had certainly had the correct password, as well as the entire week’s list. That had then shifted blame onto Neville. The mocking is severe, but even worse is that several students who had tentatively been making an effort to use Neville’s new pronouns are also mercilessly misgendering them with their taunts as well.

Tiger will not stand for this. Not the harassment, which is far too reminiscent of her time at primary school with Dudley, and certainly not the transphobia. 

Fortunately, she has a couple geniuses on her side. Tiger supplies the devious revenge and Hermione figures out the mechanics of how to make it happen. Surprisingly, Draco also joins forces with them and works out the kinks of the spell with Hermione. Then Luna gets involved, which no one is certain how that happened but they go along with it because that’s the effect Luna has on people.

By the end of it, the spell Hermione crafted even before her first year has been refined to a mischievous point. Using Draco’s idea of casting at a crystal embedded in the castle not only amplifies the magic but also locks it into the inhabitants of Hogwarts. The spell latches onto anyone who intentionally misgenders Neville (or any student, really, Hermione left it open-ended because she’s brilliant like that) to have one shoe swapped out randomly with the opposite-footed shoe from someone else in their House. A time-delay spell then starts shrinking the swapped shoe.

Not only is the consequence unbelievably annoying, the hope is that dragging in uninvolved people will supply peer pressure to stop the identified misbehavior. Tiger can’t begin to imagine how Lavender would react if one of her favorite shoes suddenly disappeared and was shrunken because of someone else’s poor manners. To ensure people know what the cause is, though, Tiger starts inserting ominous shoe-related warnings when she tells bullies to knock it off, including such gems as:

“Neville’s nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. Quit being a jerk before you put your foot in it!”

“ _They_! Stop it or else I’ll show you where your shoe fits, and it won’t be on _you._ ”

“You’re _still_ misgendering them? Being so rude is pretty sole-destroying, you know.”

* * *

Security is tightened even further after the break-in. However, months pass without incident and then it is time for the crunch of final exams and no one has room in their minds to think more about the mystery of Sirius Black. 

Tiger herself doesn’t put any thought into the matter. She studies hard for her exams and after her final one rewards herself with a leisurely stroll through the secret passageways to hang out with Draco and Daphne and Astoria, the first time she’s been able to do so in over three weeks.

Just outside Slytherin, she comes across a sight she hadn’t expected: a familiar rat who’s been missing for months shoved into an inescapable crack in the wall, an orange cat with a squashed face, and a big black dog. The latter two have their noses against the crack, obviously trying to drag the rat out. 

Tiger Stuns Scabbers, then casts Petrificus Totalus on him as well for good measure. She doesn’t want him to run away again before she presents him to Ron. Stowing the rat in her pocket, Tiger makes to cross the final short distance to Slytherin only to discover that she now has an entourage. 

She twists her neck to look at the two animals following her. She takes one step forward. Crookshanks and the big black dog also take a step forward. She shifts to the left. The cat and dog shift to the left. She backs up two steps. They back up as well. 

Tiger shrugs and continues on her way to Slytherin. She’ll make sure Scabbers stays on her until she returns to Gryffindor—Ron will be _ecstatic_ , and maybe he’ll finally start talking to Hermione again! In the meantime, she can pet Crookshanks and the big dog while hanging out with Draco, Daphne, and Astoria.

* * *

“That’s a Grim,” Daphne announces, pointing imperiously at the black dog’s nose. He whuffs at her finger, and she hastily retracts it. 

“What’s a Grim?” asks Tiger, who does not take Divination. 

“The ultimate portent of misfortune,” Daphne replies. “Professor Trelawney’s been seeing one in Neville’s cup all year.”

“I’ll be the first to say that they’ve encountered their fair share of misfortune,” Tiger murmurs, thinking darkly of bullies and mismatched shoes. “Anyway, how often is Professor Trelawney actually right? Hermione says the class was a load of hogwash and actually dropped it. _Hermione!”_ She emphasizes her point by giving a particularly good scratch behind the ears to the dog by her side, who leans into her touch, nose bumping against her pocket. Now that she’s closer, she can see the dog looks rather ragged and weary. Perhaps he isn’t a student’s, but a stray? 

“If Granger says it, it must be true,” Draco comments from his position on the couch corner. He doesn’t even sound like he intends it to be a backhanded compliment, which is progress as far as Tiger is concerned. 

“Whatever the case, I’m sure that’s a Grim that you’ve brought into Slytherin house. Look, you’ve even scared away everyone else!”

Tiger looks around and realizes Daphne is right. The only people still in the common room are herself, Draco, Daphne, and Astoria—.

—And also a man who looks remarkably like Sirius Black who is very much _too close for comfort_.

Tiger screams in shock and a healthy dose of fear. The sudden appearance of anyone would have elicited the same effect, but this is the sudden appearance of a _mass murderer_ in her lap.

Before anyone can react, Black has reached into her pocket, fished out Scabbers by his Petrified tail, and… backed away from the small group and raised his hands in the air?

“Don’t cast!” he yells hastily. “I won’t hurt you.”

Oddly enough, he legitimately seems to be afraid of the wands that the three third-year and one second-year student have trained on him. This, more than anything, makes Tiger’s adrenaline-fueled brain start thinking.

“What do you want with Scabbers?” she demands. 

“Nothing he didn’t have coming for him,” Black mutters darkly. He must see something on Draco’s or Daphne’s faces because he quickly adds, “He’s a man! An Animagus, and the true betrayer of the Potters.”

“What—?” Tiger begins.

“How do we know you’re not lying?” Daphne demands. 

“I… I can reverse the Transfiguration! But I would need a wand.” Black looks across their faces. “Except I can see there’s no chance of that happening. Which of you is best at Transfiguration? I’ll tell you the incantation and wand movement and _you_ can perform it. See this miserable rat’s true face for yourself. The other three of you best be prepared to cast a full body-bind on him before he escapes for another twelve years, though.”

Tiger is certain the man is madder than a hatter, but Draco is already practicing the spell. She, Astoria, and Daphne train their wands on Scabbers, and then several things happen very quickly.

Scabbers transforms into a pudgy man, Draco says “Holy _shit_ ”, and Black must have snapped Scabbers’s tiny legs in the confusion earlier because the man on the ground is _screaming in agony and bleeding all over_. 

One of them casts Petrificus Totalus in shock, and the screaming stops abruptly just as curious faces appear in the hallway from the dormitories.

Then there is _more_ screaming because _Sirius Black is in Slytherin House_ , and more and more students are stumbling in to see the commotion for themselves.

Then someone points out the bloody man on the floor, which really lends credence to the whole “Sirius Black is a mass murderer and he’s starting his second murdering spree in Slytherin House” theory (Tiger idly wonders in a distant part of her mind whether this theory falls under the scientific or layperson definition). Someone _else_ then calls to question why Sirius Black would go around murdering children of Death Eaters if he was one, which the man himself apparently hears because he raises his bare left arm and twists it this way and that to show the unmarred surface of it, and the confusion _multiplies_.

 _“SILENCIO!”_ screams Yasmina Nouri, the Head Girl of Slytherin. And then there is abrupt silence, but it doesn’t really stop the overall level of clamor because everyone in Slytherin House knows sign language and switches to sharp gestures to express their confusion.

The quiet does allow Black’s voice to be heard, though. “This man is Peter Pettigrew, who faked his death and framed me for a crime I did not commit! In the name of magic, I swear I will not harm any current student in this school while I pursue my right to avenge the deaths of my brother James Potter and his wife Lily Evans Potter!”

That declaration has all the Slytherins turning in unison and raising one index finger, wagging it back and forth. Even with her late start in BSL, Tiger recognizes this sign well: _what?!_

“Explain yourself,” demands Yasmina, the only one of them currently able to speak.

And Black does. He tells the harrowing tale of James and Lily Potter going into hiding, a Charm that obscured their location from all as long as their secret was kept, and the plan to try and mind-game the Potters’ enemies by making the Secret Keeper Peter Pettigrew instead of James’s adopted brother Sirius Black. 

By the end of it, Tiger and the Slytherins are incensed. If there’s one concept Slytherins as a whole can all get behind, it’s vengeance (Tiger tries not to think too hard that it’s also a concept _she_ can get behind). She’s fairly sure that a few of them who are proficient at nonverbal casting have renewed the body-bind on Pettigrew to ensure he can’t escape anytime soon. 

“Are you willing to tell the same story to the authorities?” Yasmina asks. 

“As long as Minerva McGonagall is there,” Black replies. “She’ll ensure I have a fair shot, I think. I’ve spent long enough in Azkaban without a trial for a crime I didn’t commit.”

Tracey Davis’s hand shoots up, and Yasmina ends the Silencing spell for her alone.

“Mr. Black, if you really are innocent, my mothers are both barristers. I’ll write to them to see if they would be willing to represent you if you decide to pursue reparations for the injustices done to you!”

“Tracey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yasmina cautions. “Now, Mr. Black, would you consent to having your hands bound behind your back while someone goes to get Professor McGonagall? We don’t want any illusions that you’re holding us hostage when really it’s the _other_ way around.” She smiles, showing a bit more teeth than necessary. Tiger decides she needs to ask Yasmina how to do that later; a proper threatening smile is really a useful skill. 

Black agrees, and after Yasmina casts _Incarcerous_ at him, she turns to Tiger. “Can you go get Professor McGonagall? You’re a Gryffindor, so you’re less likely to get in trouble with her.” Beside her, the Head Boy rolls his eyes and signs, _You’re just scared of her_. Yasmina doesn’t even turn her head to smack his shoulder in retaliation.

Tiger nods and points at her throat. Yasmina cancels the Silencing spell, saying, “Thank you, Ms. Potter.”

As she slips out of the secret entrance to the Slytherin common room, Tiger hears Black say incredulously, “ _Potter?”_

* * *

It turns out to be a good thing Yasmina sent Tiger, because Professor McGonagall really is more likely to listen to Tiger before jumping to conclusions. Tiger’s assurances that she is _fine_ don’t stop her from casting numerous diagnostics before accepting that. Then, inexplicably, she fetches Professor Lupin on the way down to the Slytherin dungeons. 

The reason behind that is explained when he steps through the entrance to Slytherin and immediately zeroes in on the Petrified man on the floor. _“Peter!”_

“Well that’s one mystery confirmed,” Professor McGonagall mutters. “And the other one?”

Professor Lupin takes a deep breath and visibly forces himself to turn his head to the other man in the room.

“Hello Moony,” Black says. “Long time no see?”

* * *

A lot more talking happens, and in the end, Professor McGonagall escorts Black to her quarters to call the Aurors. 

( _What are Aurors?_ Tiger signs to Draco.

 _You don’t know what Aurors are?!_ Draco signs back emphatically. _What if Black found you and_ did _want to kill you?!_

_He didn’t though. What are Aurors?_ Tiger repeats.)

Professor McGonagall also casts an anti-Animagus ward on Pettigrew. Tiger supposes it’s a good thing Yasmina had her go fetch not only a Head of House but also the Transfiguration professor, since she would obviously know how to handle rogue Animagi. For good measure, the professor also renews the Body Bind holding Pettigrew Petrified.

Professor Lupin escorts Tiger back to Gryffindor tower (no chance of another impromptu sleepover with the Greengrasses when there are teachers _right there_ ). On the way, he explains how Black is apparently her godfather, which he’d hidden from her during their unproductive Patronus lessons because he saw no point in adding to the tragedy of the now-proven-false narrative of Black’s betrayal. 

And then he drops the biggest bombshell.

“If all goes well, I think Sirius would be able to be your guardian by magical inheritance laws.”

“Really?!” Tiger stops in her tracks, jaw dropped. “Would he take me away?”

Professor Lupin looks at her askance. “I understand if you don’t want to leave the home you have with Headmaster Dumbledore, it must be incredible living with such a great man—”

“What? I don’t live with _him_ , nor would I want to. I’d rather keep staying with the Dursleys!”

Now it’s Professor Lupin’s turn to have his jaw drop in shock. “You’ve been living with Lily’s sister? But she’s horrid!”

“Tell me about it,” Tiger mutters.

“Headmaster Dumbledore always assured us that he had taken care of you and that you were safe and hidden. The Order assumed that meant he was caring for you himself…”

“Ummm… to put this in the nicest way, no. He didn’t. He wasn’t. My aunt and uncle are…” she fights the old impulse to hide her horrible home life, to disguise the shame of being _different_ in yet another way. “They’re the worst and shouldn’t be allowed to raise any child, not even Dudley. I’m always hungry while Dudley is overfed and spoiled. Dudley’s always trying to beat me up, and I lived in a cupboard until I was eleven and my aunt and uncle were afraid the wizards would find out.”

Oddly, Professor Lupin’s eyes seem to gleam yellow. “Does anyone else know about this?”

“Professor McGonagall and Madame Pince. They’ve already tried getting me out of that house, but Headmaster Dumbledore said no and he’s apparently my magical guardian so legally they can’t do anything without his saying.”

Professor Lupin inhales deeply, clearly trying to control his temper. Eventually, he says, “He’s about to get overruled, then. A godparent designated by a child’s parents legally outranks magical guardianship.”

Heart pounding, Tiger nods silently. A sliver of bright, sharp, painful hope is blooming to life in her chest.

_Maybe life will start looking up from now on._

* * *

Tiger has no experience with the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. However, as she sits in between Professor McGonagall and Madame Pince in the gallery of the private trial where Sirius Black is to be questioned under a serum that apparently makes you tell the truth, she gathers from the comments of those around her what kind of leader he is. She’s not particularly surprised anymore how Sirius was thrown into prison without a trial and left there for twelve years if Fudge was involved. 

The Veritaserum leaves no room for argument. One of Tracey’s mothers, who is representing Sirius, manages to wrangle a decision that leaves Sirius a lot of Galleons richer and also a public apology from the Ministry at a press conference to try to undo the damage done to his name and legacy. She can’t have them reverse the charges on him because he was never officially charged with a crime to begin with. 

After it all, Tiger steels herself to face her godfather for the first time. The back of her mind is an anxious mess. He’d known her as Harry when she was a baby. How will he react now to the news that she is actually Tiger Potter? 

It’s just Sirius and Professor Lupin on one side of the room that a Ministry aide had shuffled them into. On the other side stand Tiger, Professor McGonagall, and Madame Pince. For a long while, no one speaks. 

Just when Tiger thinks she’s going to dissolve into a billion particles from the awkwardness, Sirius says hesitantly, “Do you hate me?”

That startles a response out of Tiger. “How could I hate you? I don’t even know you.”

“That hasn’t stopped me from loving you,” Sirius replies. Gently, he continues, “Your name is Tiger, is that right?”

On either side of Tiger, Professor McGonagall and Madame Pince squeeze Tiger’s shoulders reassuringly. “Yes. I’m Tiger Lily Potter.”

“Tiger Lily… she would have loved that. They both loved you, loved you so much—” Sirius chokes off into a sob and then abruptly he is the big black dog again, collapsed on the floor, his huge eyes staring up at Professor Lupin pleadingly.

Professor Lupin crouches down and rubs the dog’s shoulders. “I think he’s going to need a long time to recover from the Dementors and the mental trauma from the war. He… he didn’t have news in Azkaban, and he’ll have to be caught up on all that’s happened without the benefit of years to come to terms with it all.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at Professor McGonagall and Madame Pince. “He'll need someone to take care of him, so I unfortunately have to resign from teaching Defence, Minerva.”

“I can’t say I expected otherwise,” Professor McGonagall murmurs. 

“It seemed fitting to follow with tradition,” Professor Lupin jokes. “As for the magical guardian transfer, we’ll settle the paperwork before leaving here. Sirius is hardly up to caring for anyone but himself right now, so if Tiger agrees, I think we’d all feel best if Tiger stayed with the two of you until Sirius is well, at which point we can reassess.” 

He raises both eyebrows at Tiger expectantly, who feels as if the floor has fallen out from beneath her. 

She glances first at Professor McGonagall, then at Madame Pince. Both of them are looking back at her, carefully neutral expressions on their faces. Cautiously, Tiger allows herself to imagine living away from the Dursleys and with her two favorite adults in the world.

“I think I’d like that,” she says, and is rewarded by twin smiles blooming to life on the faces of her new foster mothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: finally the year I get to the scene that inspired me to write this fic in the first place! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and if you had a favorite scene in this fic, let me know and I might draw it!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at @cequonveut


	3. ART

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made some doodles and figured they might as well go here :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drawn in Adobe Fresco

  
  
An older Tiger

  
Trevor sitting on Crookshank’s head. Thank you to literary_lion for the inspiration!  



End file.
